


When I Close My Eyes

by rdm_ation, theworldwhispers



Series: What I Already Knew [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Gen, What I Already Knew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rdm_ation/pseuds/rdm_ation, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldwhispers/pseuds/theworldwhispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even at 13 years old, Kurt liked his mother's tiara more than his circlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Close My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This one is actually a co-written effort. Brittany ambushed me with this scene one night when she couldn't sleep, and then I woke up to it in my inbox. I've edited and rewritten parts of it to make it fit better with how the story turned out.

It’s been a long day — Burt’s been stuck in talks with his advisors for far too many hours, and the last one had ended in a heated debate. He’s tired, but he heads up to check on Kurt. As he enters the room he notices that Kurt’s circlet is resting on his dresser. With a small smile, he thinks he must be sleeping. Walking further into the room, he sees that he’s right. There’s a small, Kurt-sized lump in the bed, chestnut hair fanned out across the pillow. It always amazes Burt just how small Kurt looks in sleep — he’s always such a vibrant presence when he’s awake.

He inches closer to the bed and sits down on the edge. That’s when he sees it — the faint glimmer of metal. He’s wearing it again. He knows it can’t be comfortable to sleep in, so he slips the woven tiara off his son’s forehead, getting up to set it gently on his dresser beside Kurt’s own circlet. 

He lingers for a moment in the doorway, just watching, when he hears the bed rustle.

“Dad? Wh-what’s… what’re you doing in here?” he asks, voice laden with sleep. He reaches up to rub his eyes, and visibly panics when his hands don’t brush cool silver. “Where is-?” he begins, but stops short when he sees it sitting on the table. His face flushes, having been caught again.

“You can’t keep doing this, Kurt.”

Burt walks over to the bed, and when Kurt doesn’t respond he speaks again. “You’re required to wear your own. I gave you hers as something to remember her by, not to wear. You know the rules, son.”

Kurt folds his hands nervously, avoiding his dad’s eyes. “I just want to feel like she’s- she’s part of me. Like she’s still here. Like I… had a chance to know her.”

Burt’s gaze softens. “She is a part of you. She always will be. She was your mother, Kurt — and you are a lot like her. But no matter how much you — we — miss her, you can’t. You have to wear your-”

“I don’t like mine!” he yells suddenly.

Yep , Burt thinks.  Definitely a teenager, now.

“At least you don’t have to wear it forever. Soon you’ll have your own crown to wear.”

Kurt mumbles something unintelligible. Burt raises his eyebrows. “What was that?”

“I said, like that’s any better, Dad. I don’t  want  my own crown. I don’t want… any of this.”

“You have a duty to the kingdom, Kurt — just like I do, and just like your mother did. You know that, don’t you?”

The answer, when it comes, is in a barely-there whisper.

“I know.”

Burt puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder for just a moment — a silent plea — and then gets up to leave.

Kurt opens his mouth as if to say something, but then snaps it shut again. Burt only just hears his whisper as he leaves the room.

“No one ever asks what we want.”


End file.
